Listen
by LapisLazuli786
Summary: A late night conversation in the Gryffindor common room leads to unexpected results for Hermione's relationship with the Weasley twins. (Originally posted on AO3 so let me know if there's any formatting issues. Also, I miss author's notes :'( Visit me on AO3 under the same name for a more personal format. PM me for tumblr(s)
1. Whisper

Hermione often looked up from the book she was currently reading to see a suddenly empty common room. There weren't many who were the correct mixture of bookworm and anxiety-induced insomnia to often be staying there so late. Actually tonight, it was more to do with her fascination with the liberal essays in the volume she was holding that kept her from the dorms so long. The only reason her eyes had pulled away from the pages now was that the fire was burning so low in the the hearth that it was becoming difficult to read by, even for her well-practiced eyes. That and the slight change in the tone of the hushed conversation happening at one of the tables on the other side of the dorm. Not alone then. Hermione blinked to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. Fred and George Weasley. Now, why would they be tucked into a secretive corner of the common room whispering heatedly to each other this late at night? She could almost feel her Prefect senses tingling. She closed the book with a surprisingly loud thud that drew the attention of the twins, who fell silent immediately, their red heads turning to her synchronously.

She watched as George carefully re-relaxed his posture and leant back in his chair, Fred following suit half a moment later.

"Hermione Jean Granger," the latter twin said, like he'd only just seen her after a long separation (and how exactly had he known and remembered her middle name?), "what keeps you out of your bed at this late hour?"

"I was just about to ask you the same question," she replied sternly, "this wouldn't happen to be a meeting pertaining to the illegal testing of unsafe products on minors, would it?" Identical aghast expressions turned up at her before looking at each other with a hint of indignance that was just too innocent to not have been practiced.

"Illegal?" breathed George,

"Unsafe?" gasped Fred, "Now that just doesn't sound like us at all." Hermione glared at them and opened her mouth before being cut off by George's "and even if it was," his face losing its insincerity and becoming sharper, "it's not like theorising has become a crime."

"Theorising?" Hermione forced a laugh, "George, you're not theoretically putting those kids in danger-"

"It's not like they'll die, 'Mione, we have made sure they're not poison." That was Fred of course, the only one of the Weasleys bar Ron to shorten her name like that, and, out of the two of them, the twin who had always seen more fit to attempt to appeal to her better nature.

"Made sure how?" She asked, alarmed at the thought of House elves or mice being forced to eat puking pastilles.

"We test them on ourselves first," George answered, his matter-of-fact tone doing nothing to calm her fears.

"On yourselves?!" He rolled his eyes at her indignation.

"It's extensive enough to ascertain it won't kill the first years, Hermione-"

"And what if it kills you?" She hissed, incredulous at the surprised laugh that her question seemed to provoke in Fred.

"Aw, Hermione, we never knew you cared for us so much!" He said, reaching out and grabbing her hand in a mockery of affection while she felt a touch of blood rise to her cheeks.

"Though we all know you care for one of us in particular." Murmured George mischievously. Two pairs of wide eyes flew to his face instantly, and Hermione wondered to see Fred's own face flame, ears in particular lighting up a violent crimson.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She asked aggressively, directing her frown back at George. She saw him open his mouth and then glance at Fred a moment before meeting her eyes again. an easy smirk spreading over his face.

"Oh, nothing," He said nonchalantly, shooing the inquiry off with a wave of his freckled hand, "just that I'm pretty sure you're madly in love with me."

She snorted and George arched an eyebrow in response, standing up.

"What, are you trying to say you wouldn't go for this?" She stopped laughing long enough to reply: "I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole, George Weasley - you are nothing but trouble."

He held a pout for the entirety of two seconds before dropping it and leaning in close to Hermione, so only she could hear what he said.

"Yet you're holding his hand…" Hermione looked down to see the truth of his statement and dropped the aforementioned hand like it had burned her, her skin flaming again, "...and you wonder why I think you have a favourite." He tutted before stepping back with a wink.

"Anyway, I think I've had enough theorising for one night - g'night, Hermione, night Forge."

"Night, Gred." Hermione gave him a terse nod as he left and then turned back to Fred, who she was surprised to see staring after his brother with a contemplative look on his face. He seemed to have forgotten about the embarrassment he'd clearly felt a moment ago, although the tips of his ears still evidenced it with a pink glow.

"Here, Hermione…" He said without moving his eyes from the doorway, "do you think we're mad?"

"Yes. Next question." He looked up at her and the lack of teasing in his eyes caught her by surprise; she felt herself unable to hold his gaze for very long, and broke it to seat herself in George's recently vacated chair.

"What do you mean?" She asked in a softer voice, and he sighed, sitting back in his chair again and turning his body to face her.

"I mean the shop. Do you think we're insane to think it could ever work?" She cocked her head, taken aback.

"Why would it matter what I think?" He frowned.

"Me and George, we've been trying so hard for this for so long, I don't think either of us can look at it clearly any more. It's like -" He stopped for a second and she watched him lick his lips, like he was trying to find the right words by their taste, and he continued in a measured voice, "it's like sometimes, it feels like we're just twelve again, having fun fantasising about all the great things we could do and make - but this isn't a fantasy. These are real galleons, real products we're putting out, and if it doesn't happen, we will really be screwed." He seemed to suddenly remember she was there, and traced his own train of thought back to her question: "But you? You're the smartest person we know, and if you think- I mean…" He trailed off, frowning at her.

She paused, considering. She would never have expected to hear him confess his doubts to her, or to value her opinion in any real way. After all, she was just his little brother's friend. Who would expect one half of the cockiest duo in the school to be asking advice of know-it-all Granger? But that was the point, wasn't it? They weren't really what everyone expected. She'd seen it for herself, although she'd never admit it, in the way they guided the first-years through their trials, in the work they'd been putting into this shop. Not many people had the opportunity to see the twins bent over a book in the library, excitedly discussing potion recipes and magical theory, or making notes here in the common room, debating marketing strategies with Lee Jordan. She had though, and the answer to his question was clear in her mind.

"I do think you're mad." She stated, and almost felt guilty at the fall in Fred's face at her words, but she pressed on. "That's why it'll work." His eyebrows shot up as he opened his mouth, question cut off by her pressing on.

"It's mad that if you'd put half the work and effort you've put into the shop into your studies you'd have done wonderfully -" she ignored his scoff, "-and it's insane that you've been thinking about this since you were twelve - ridiculous, even - but you're not dreaming kids any more, Fred. You've put in the galleons, yes, but it's more than that. You've set a goal and you're working towards it with everything you've got. I know how much market research you do and I know how thoroughly you've been studying the theory behind your products. I'm sorry to ruin your self image but you two have been downright studious, and you need to start taking responsibility for that. You are far more intelligent than you let on to anybody and, to be honest, it kind of scares me how brilliant I think this whole thing is."

She stopped, finally, short of breath and rosy cheeked, lips pursed. She registered the expression on his face as he stared silently at her and blushed darker - his brown eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open - she must look a mess. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears and lifted her chin in an automatic show of dignity. "That's not to say there are no problems with the enterprise. The experimentation on first years, for example," she hit him with a glare, but he looked so disarmed that she couldn't quite hold it, "is unacceptable. If you want to be a reputable company you have to start acting like one, Fred Weasley. And that means finding a place better than your dorms to work out formulae and recipes too. I'm surprised that boys of your caliber haven't figured out how to sneak into the potions labs after hours yet-"

"Hermione Granger!" He exclaimed, seeming to have suddenly broken from his trance, "are you suggesting that we do something… against the school rules?" He almost purred the last four words and she inhaled sharply at the surprising shiver the tone evoked in her. He blinked and the corner of his mouth twitched up a second, filling her with a strange sort of panic that he might have somehow sensed what had just happened to her.

"If it means you have higher quality products less likely to kill anyone," she admitted, "then yes. If you're serious about this… If this isn't just another game to you, then… well. If there's one thing we're all learning from this year, it's that some risks are worth taking." Fred studied her for a moment.

"Yeah, okay - I take your point, but this is hardly the same as the DA is it? It's just a joke shop."

Hermione laughed incredulously.

"Just a joke shop? Are you a Weasley twin or not?" She paused. "Now more than ever we need laughter, we need some stupid jokes, we need happiness and light." Quietly, she added: "We need you." Their eyes locked for what felt like forever before Fred finally broke the heavy silence with a long exhale.

"Merlin, Hermione, you are doing wonders for my ego tonight." She pursed her lips.

"Yes, well don't get used to it," she said, but there was no edge to her voice, and Fred grinned at her. After another moment of silence she added, "if you need any help with anything…" She trailed off and he stared at her curiously for a second before nodding.

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"Don't mention it." He heard the meaning of the phrase loud and clear - there could be no knowledge of Hermione Granger's belief in or assistance with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes circulating in the school. Her status as a Prefect was too important for one late night admission to him to take it from her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," He assured her, and watched her rise from the chair and head towards the girls' dorms. Something in him ached to see her walk away and he called her name again on instinct, causing her to turn to him with one eyebrow arched.

"Really, Hermione," he said softly, "thanks." She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, and Fred thought he saw something soft and unfamiliar in her eyes, but then she'd pressed her lips together again, and left without another word.

* * *

"Had fun then?" Asked George with a knowing grin, as Fred sat down on the bed next to him.

"We talked about the shop," he replied firmly.

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Fred threw a pillow at his ridiculous waggling eyebrows but couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth turn up - just a touch.

"She tell you off then? Gleaming eyes, crackling hair, that sort of thing?" George was trying to sound casual, he knew, but his twin brother was not someone he was going to fool with an act like that.

"No," he said, sounding surprised even to himself, "at least, not much. It was more… insightful, really. And downright complimentary." He looked over and saw the crease form between George's eyebrows. "Not only did she think we can make it work, but she was listing all the things we've been doing, and how we could improve - and she even offered to help herself."

"Well, it makes sense that she'd be paying attention," George said carefully, watching his brother as he glanced up questioningly, "her and Ron being Prefects and all." They shared a look, in which an unspoken understanding was reached, and Fred nodded.

"Yeah. Makes sense."


	2. Bubble

Hermione wasn't obsessed with high marks. People often assumed that was it, but academic qualifications were never her goal. She had never doubted her own ability. She had grown up among muggles, smart and self-assured - until the letter. Her sudden introduction into the magical world had left her rattled; there, she was starting from the beginning again. She couldn't help but feel disadvantaged compared to the classmates who'd come from wizarding families, and she had been frustrated with the inherent belief that if she'd only been given half the chance that they had, she'd be a brilliant witch by now. At the age of eleven, Hermione had decided she would never settle for anything less than what she was knew she was capable of. She'd got her books. She'd started working.

Now, it was this damn transfigurative potion. True, it was stuff set for NEWT level students, but having read the theory a half a dozen times and assured herself of her sound understanding, she still couldn't seem to make a useable drop. She'd asked permission from McGonagall to use the potions labs in the evenings and the stern house head had somehow managed to get Snape to agree, but after five days straight of working till the small hours she was beginning to think that she might never be able to make the potion she wanted to. Making a low noise of frustration she threw in the Baneberry - _again_ \- and stirred seven times anticlockwise. Thirty seconds later the potion turned a horrific shade of magenta and Hermione could feel her own face going in the same direction.

" _Bloody-!"_

"Such language!" Hermione looked up to see the Weasley twins entering the lab, identical expressions of horror on their faces.

"I think our brother is becoming something of a bad influence on Miss Granger, George."

"Yes indeed, Fred - I think it's probably up to us to guide our darling Prefect here back onto the straight and narrow as soon as possible." If she hadn't still been in a rage about the botched potion she might have scoffed at this. As it was she merely sighed and tried to smooth her hair down, breathing slowly.

"The straight and narrow. Right. A path you haven't even been in owling distance of since you were about five."

"We're deeply offended." Stated George, with a face like blank parchment, and Fred grinned.

"Alright then," she said, giving into her curiosity, "what are you two doing here?"

"Just taking your advice, 'Mione." Fred pulled at the thin air two feet above the corner of the room and revealed a pile of potions ingredients and a pile of notes on - Hermione glanced over - skiving snackboxes. "Harry lent us his cloak." His brother added by way of explanation.

"What are _you_ doing?"

Hermione sighed and held her head in her hands, too tired to even answer. She felt the sudden warmth of Fred's body close to hers and almost stopped breathing as he reached over to angle the book towards him. His other arm was slung over her shoulder now and he was practically embracing her as he read.

Fred looked up and saw the stiffness in her shoulders, meeting his twin's eye from across the desk he dropped his arms immediately and stepped back.

"Please tell me you've not been slaving away over that cauldron on _that_." He said, half exasperated, half laughing.

"Why?" She asked defensively, "I'm perfectly capable of NEWT level work, Fred-" He held his hands up in surrender.

"I would never dare suggest otherwise," he assured her, "but it might interest you to know that this edition of the book has got several typos-"

"-probably because they hired a half troll to do the editing-"

"-and as a result, this recipe is incorrect."

Hermione gaped at him for a full ten seconds before he leant over again, pointing at the fourth step, where her brew had always violently changed colour.

"I think Snape said that's supposed to be eight times anti clockwise and one time clockwise," He said softly, still waiting for her to say something. When she didn't, he frowned and reached over her to stir her potion once more anti clockwise and once again in the other direction. It began bubbling gently, pale blue, as the book had described, and Fred used his wand to lower the heat under the cauldron.

"Believe me yet?" He asked, a vaguely concerned expression on his face at her continued silence. Hermione shook her head as though to clear it and groaned, falling face-first down on the desk in front of her. The twins glanced at each other, alarmed.

"I don't have any problem believing you, Fred," came her muffled voice from behind the blanket of her hair, even more frizzy than usual from her work over the cauldron, "I have a problem believing that I've wasted five nights in a row on this because of a _typo_."

"Our condolences," Came George's voice from across the desk.

"At least you know it wasn't your fault," Fred pointed out, "you're not the stupid one." She looked up to see a hopeful smile on his face, waiting for her reaction. She smiled back weakly.

"Yeah." Was all she could think to say.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the three of them looked at each other.

"Well." Said George, in an attempt to get the air moving again, "as much as we enjoy your potion-related crises, Hermione, we've got a couple of our own we need to sort out, so…" He trailed off, looking expectantly at her. For some reason, her first instinct was to check with Fred, but she found him frowning at her now simmering midnight blue cauldron. George had noticed too.

"What're you gazing at, brother mine?"

"Transfigurative potion, brother." He said the words slowly, looking up at his twin with a meaningful glance. George's eyes widened.

"Of course, we've been being so stupid-"

"-all we needed-"

"-for the stability-"

"-and the colour-"

" _Baneberry!_ " They said together, and Hermione looked from one to the other like she thought they'd gone mad.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Fred looked up at her, beaming.

"We, my dear Miss Granger, are talking about why you're our favourite person right now." She stammered as George nodded enthusiastically.

"What?"

"You, Hermione Granger," supplied George, "have just solved one of our biggest problems." He grabbed a roll of parchment from the pile on the ground and threw it to his brother, who caught it easily before laying it flat on the desk in front of her. She looked at what appeared to be a heavily re-edited and reworked recipe for what she assumed was the active ingredient in the skiving snackboxes. Fred pointed at a particularly messy paragraph which had obviously been crossed out and rewritten at least seven or eight times.

"Here," he said in a tone to excited not to be infectious. He didn't need to explain any more as she scanned the passage.

" _Oh!_ " She breathed, and then looked up at him, "you've been-"

"-adding the boomslang, yeah-"

"-but of course-"

"-yeah, the stability basically goes mental-"

"-and then the colour isn't right-"

"-for the next step? No, and then-"

"-you can't add the-"

" _Ahem._ " They both looked up in horror but it was only George, with an impression of Umbridge equal to that of his sister's. He was looking slightly bemused, a small smirk playing about his lips.

"Sorry to interrupt," He said archly, "but I think we can all assume we're on the same page." Hermione felt herself blushing slightly. "Now are we going to try the Baneberry, or…?" To her surprise, his eyes were not fixed solely on Fred, instead including her in the question.

"You sticking around?" Fred asked casually, as he helped his brother pull up the ingredients they needed. She looked between them, wide-eyed. It felt so odd to be so easily accepted into their work, into their team. It had taken a troll to bring her together with Harry and Ron in their first year, after all. She thought that she should feel like she was intruding, or maybe even apprehensive about the rule-breaking, but she didn't. She was flattered, but it was more than that. She felt comfortable. She felt like she belonged. She nodded.

"Okay." She said, and they got to work.


	3. Thud

"What does she think she's playing at?" grumbled Ron, looking over at where Hermione was sitting with the twins in the common room. Harry looked up and shrugged.

"Dunno. She can do what she likes, can't she?" All the same, Harry could see why this was strange to Ron. Hermione had been spending more and more time in the twins' company, although he knew she was making a point to not do it too much in front of people other than himself and Ron.

"Yeah but one minute she's telling them off and the next she's best bum chums with them," He paled. "You don't think they've slipped anything into her morning Pumpkin juice or something, do you? Made her like them or whatever? Oh my God, I think they were working on a love potion in the holidays-"

"Ron," Harry stopped him before his ramblings got even more out of hand, "I don't think she's in love with them. I think she's enjoying working with them. And anyway, they stopped testing on the first years, didn't they? That was her main problem."

"They're her main problem, if you ask me," grumbled Ron, but he let it go. "We should probably get ready to leave - Quidditch in ten." Harry nodded and they left to get their kits from the dorm as Fred and George took their leave of Hermione.

In the changing rooms, after practice, the twins were in the middle of hitting a dead snitch between them when Ron stepped in the middle of their game.

"Get out the way, Ronnikins!" George took a mock swing at him with his beater's bat but Ron stayed rooted to the spot, a look of grim determination in his face.

"What have you done to Hermione?" He asked, glaring at George, who raised an eyebrow.

"What are you on about?"

"Her-mi-o-ne," said Ron, like he was talking to a child, "you've done something to her to make her help you, and you need to stop it." He heard a laugh from behind him and turned to Fred.

"Did it ever occur to you that she might just enjoy spending time with us?" He asked, throwing the snitch over Ron's head to neatly land in George's open palm. Ron gave a humorless laugh.

"Hermione? With _you_?" He asked, voice hard, "have you met her?"

Harry looked up waiting for Fred's witty comeback, or dismissive brush-off, but was surprised to see his best friend's brother with a set jaw, a hint of colour on his cheeks.

"Yeah, Ron, I have actually - and we happen to work well together, so with all due respect - which stands at zero, by the way - you can kindly fuck off and keep your abnormally long nose out of our business." A hush had fallen over the changing room. Ron was standing with his mouth slightly open and even George appeared taken aback by the vehemence with which his twin had responded to Ron's words. Fred looked away from his target long enough to notice the looks on everyone's faces and decided he could change back at the castle. With a glance, he sent a very specific message to his twin before leaving. _Don't follow._

Fred swung his kit back over his shoulder as he walked out onto the grass, feeling the anger still burning in his chest and coiling in his joints. He took a swing at a nearby tree as he passed it in an attempt to work out some of his rage. Inexplicable, overdramatic rage. What was he doing? Why had Ron's accusation annoyed him so much? But no, that wasn't when he'd lashed out. It was… _Hermione? With you? Have you met her?_ It was the assumption that she, the perfect prefect with the brains and the beauty, could never hold him in esteem. Of course they could never be _together._ He'd thought he'd been resigned to it - for months now, really, wasn't it? Hadn't he and George decided, without words, that he could not make a move on the girl they were almost certain had had a crush on their little brother for the best part of three years? But he had some Weasley pride, and the suggestion - to the point where it'd been taken as fact, mind - that Hermione was so out of his league as to make her seeming to enjoy spending time with him ridiculous… it had stung. For the past couple of weeks he'd almost been able to forget the promise he'd made to himself, forget that she was unobtainable. She'd spent time with them both, and he knew he wasn't wrong in thinking she engaged with him more than George, their common love for the science of their work giving them more to discuss than she had with the more big picture twin. He'd almost believed… but he was being stupid. He wouldn't apologise to Ron for snapping at him - he shouldn't have pried - but he'd have to take care not to let himself slip like that in the future. There would be no more even vague entertainment of the idea that Hermione Granger-

Hermione Granger. Damn. Speak of the angel.

"...waiting for your boyfriend are you?" Draco Malfoy was standing outside the tent too, presumably for the Slytherin quidditch practice, judging by the emerald green kit bag he carried over one shoulder.

"Ron is not my boyfriend, Malfoy, not that it's any of your business," Hermione answered in a cool voice but Fred knew her well enough to sense the anger shimmering behind her words.

"No, I don't suppose even a blood traitor family like the Weasleys would take a mudblood," he sneered, "especially one as revolting as you."

There were few days on which Fred would have let this pass, and this day in particular was not one on which it was anywhere near likely.

"Oi, Ferret!" He growled, as he stepped into their view, and Hermione's would-be retort died in her mouth as she saw the scarily dangerous expression on his face as he marched towards her adversary. "I suggest that you look up the word revolting before you use it like that again - or better yet, look in a mirror. That should give you a pretty good idea as to what the word actually means." Malfoy's face twisted into a smirk as he looked from Fred to Hermione.

"What? You're telling me she's got the whole Weasley clan defending her? I'd say she were well connected for a mudblood but-" He cut himself off in surprise as Fred dropped his kit and flexed his fingers around the beater's club that had hung dormant at his side until now.

"And as for that word," He said, in a low voice that put Hermione in mind of the beginnings of an Earthquake, "if I ever hear even a syllable of _that fucking word_ leaving your nasty little rodent mouth again, I'll beat you so hard even Madame Pomfrey won't be able to fix you up."

Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have thought this an empty threat, and Malfoy too seemed halfway to scoffing before his face fell. Fred had taken it upon himself to take another step closer and stand directly between him and Hermione. She saw his stance change and his shoulders seemed to get bigger as he lifted the club to rest on one. She'd never quite appreciated the broad, powerful build that his years of beating had given him, and she could tell by the look on Malfoy's face that he too could feel the menace rolling off him in waves and was surprised by the power and aggression he had suddenly sensed in the person so often written off as a harmless prankster. She couldn't see the expression on Fred's face but she was willing to bet that it was nothing Malfoy had ever seen before, as he clung onto his kitbag.

"Yeah?" He managed, "Well…" With nothing to finish on, he scowled stupidly at them both - failing to mask his terror - and briskly walked away, his pointy little chin in the air.

Fred's posture lost its menace as soon as the boy was out of sight, but Hermione could still see a tension in the way he was holding himself.

"Thanks," she proffered carefully, moving forward to try to see his face, "but you know I could have handled that, right?" Fred's head snapped up and for a second she thought he would snarl at her too, but he instead clenched his jaw, not meeting her eyes.

"You shouldn't have to." He bit out, and she half laughed.

"Aw, Fred, I never knew you cared for me so much!" She said, waiting for him to catch the reference to their conversation in the common room. Instead, he looked as though he was going to be sick.

"Fred?" She asked, alarmed, "are you okay?" Now it was his turn to almost laugh. Not even close. He looked up and saw the soft concern in her eyes, and felt her rest her hand gently on his arm. Merlin, he could almost believe-

" _No._ " He said out loud, and watched those soft eyes widen, creases appearing between her brows. He swallowed and stepped away, shrugging her touch away from him. "No, I'm not okay. I'd better head inside." And he had walked away before she'd even registered the inexplicable pain in his parting look.


	4. Bang

"You said _what_?" Hermione asked, incredulous. They were in the Great Hall, and Harry was forcing Ron to recount what had happened in the changing rooms, after she'd made a passing comment on Fred's strange behaviour that day.

"Well, it's not impossible is it? You did change your mind about them pretty quick and it's not like they're against bending the rules." She gaped at him.

"Not for just anything, Ron! They would never force anyone into doing anything they didn't want to do!"

"They tried to make me make an unbreakable vow!"

"When you were children, Ron! And besides, that's different, you're their brother." She dismissed his argument with a wave of his wand.

"Charming. And you don't think it's odd that you're suddenly spending all this time with them?" Hermione huffed, her face going pink.

"I happen to enjoy spending time with them, Ronald," he winced at her use of his full name, "and if you'd asked me about it before throwing your weight around like some territorial ape-"

"- _territorial-?"_

"Guys! Please!" Harry managed, finally, to get a word in edgeways. "This is pointless. What's done is done. Hermione, Ron was just looking out for you, but Ron, you should have talked to her first if you were worried okay?" There was a pause, and for a moment Harry dreaded that they'd go back to the icy on/off drama of last year. But there seemed to be less of that unspoken tension between them these days, and after a second, Ron sighed.

"Yeah, okay, but you have to admit Fred overreacted - even George thought he might have gone mental - you could see it in his face."

"Well you did just suggest that the only way I would ever spend time with him is if I was being enchanted into it," Hermione pointed out, although her tone was more worried than angry now.

"Yeah, well, I still don't really understand-" Ron began to mutter but was cut off almost as soon as he began.

"I like him, Ron, and I like working with him." It was hissed with a sort of finality that barred all further discussion. Not that Ron could have further discussed it, partly because she'd gotten up and was swiftly leaving the hall, and partly because he was still processing what she'd said. He turned to Harry.

"She didn't mean-" he looked like he might be sick, " _like_ , like?" Harry opened his mouth to dismiss the idea as ridiculous but stopped halfway through. They did seem to get on, and it would explain a lot. The pause had been enough of an answer, and Ron settled into a grim silence which lasted well into the night.

* * *

The library, of course, is where Hermione had gone. She didn't even really think about it, her muscle memory taking her up to the warm, well lit room. Her favourite haunt was a quiet, usually empty area with a squashy maroon couch on which she could stretch out and read her latest conquest. As it was, she could see she wouldn't be stretching out there today. Of all people, of course Fred Weasley would be lying in her favourite spot, his hands tucked behind his head like a pillow and his long legs stretched out over the couch, crossed at the ankle. He had his eyes closed, but the frown on his face made her doubt he was asleep.

" _Ahem_." He almost jumped out of his skin, sitting bolt upright immediately as his eyes opened wide. She grinned at him, waiting for a laugh but was met with a blank expression. He groaned and then leant back in the couch.

"That pleased to see me?" She asked archly, trying not to let any real offence leak into her voice.

"Thought you were Umbridge - thought maybe the Ferret had gone running to her."

"I think he's a little bit too terrified of you and your big club to go running to anyone." At the words 'you and your big club', Fred almost choked on his own tongue, spluttering as she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Honestly!" She huffed, but he could see she was suppressing a smirk, and he couldn't help but grin back. "Ah! A smile!" She announced happily, "that looks more promising than anything else you've done today." He scanned her face.

"You heard about the changing rooms." It wasn't a question but she nodded anyway.

"Ron's just being stupid-" she began, but he shook his head.

"I'm the last one to deny that Ronnikins is stupid," he said flatly, "but he wasn't _just_ being stupid." She tilted her head in incomprehension and he continued. "I mean, he wasn't just pulling things out of the air, was he? You have suddenly been spending a lot of time with us-"

"-working on the products, that's not a crime-" Even now it was odd to hear her defend WWW like that. And that was kind of the point, wasn't it?

"No but, to him it must look like you changed your mind pretty sharpish - I mean, _I_ was surprised when you said all those things you did in the common room." It was the first time either of them had mentioned that night except in reference to her advice about the labs, and she was reminded of the honesty she'd so greatly appreciated from him that day. Maybe it was time to repay the favour.

"Well, at least you asked my opinion before assuming what I was or wasn't capable of feeling," she said, "Ron shouldn't have confronted you without talking to me first - I could have explained about our work." _Our work_. She sighed. "Fred-" Maybe she shouldn't… but he had bared his insecurities to her. "The thing is, I think he's feeling jealous." His mouth opened slightly and he stared at her as she went on, blushing furiously.

"I mean, last year - with Krum -" Yeah, that's what he needed, a reminder of her dreamboat ex-boyfriend, "- he spent so much time being aggressive towards him that I sort of figured that he must, at least on some level, _like_ me." He could tell she was horribly embarrassed to be saying this out loud and tried to keep his face calm and inviting. "But I waited for him to make a move and he never did - and I realised I didn't really want him to. I asked Harry to talk to him about calming down then but I don't think he even realises he's doing the same thing again."

Fred tried to understand what she'd just said. Was she- did she-

"You didn't want Ron to make a move?" The question had fallen from his mouth before he had the chance to stop it. She frowned at him.

"Of course not, he's one of my best friends." she paused, "I did think, once… but not any more." She looked at him like this should have been obvious, as he stared dumbly back at her.

"You… don't _like_ Ron?" He asked slowly.

"No…?" She answered, like she was afraid of giving the wrong answer, "I mean of course I like him - he's my friend, I'm not insulting your brother or anything but-"

She broke off as she heard - inexplicably - his laughter, breaking through him like one of the fireworks he'd been working on with his brother.

"Fred?" Hermione's voice was mildly alarmed as she watched him crease up, and he opened his eyes long enough to wave her concern away with a freckled hand, holding it up to signal he needed time.

Once he'd sufficiently recovered, he opened his eyes to see her still staring at him with a look not dissimilar to the one she had when studying a particularly challenging book. He allowed himself to take it in, the small crease between her eyebrows, the unruly lock of hair that fell across her forehead.

"Fred," she said again slowly, and he realised he'd been staring, "why were you hysterically laughing?"

"Ah…" How should he go about this? "I just realized I'm as much of an idiot as my brother."

"Well, I could have told you that." He laughed again and saw her half-smiling half-bemused expression relax just a little bit more. She was waiting for an explanation. When he spoke again it was slow and careful.

"It's like you said, right? About assuming what you're feeling. I've just been taking it as a given for so long that you and Ron…" That oh so familiar frown was back now, and he didn't stop himself from gazing at her rapturously, thinking it wouldn't do to slow down her journey to the inevitable conclusion of the conversation.

"Is that… is that relevant?" She still wasn't there. _Brightest witch of her age, my arse_ , thought Fred affectionately. He licked his lips.

"Do you want it to be?" Three… Two… One… Her eyes widened incrementally and her mouth opened in a silent _oh_. There it was. He could feel himself smiling besottedly at her and she had the decency to blush a delicious shade of pink, even if she didn't answer.

"Listen," He said quietly, hoping to ease her discomfort, "it doesn't have to be. Relevant, I mean. I mean, I've gone this long without acknowledging it, I can go on for a bit longer… We can just pretend today never happened, and go back to working on Wheezes as friends, yeah? You don't have to worry about hurting my precious feelings or whatever-" She shook her head almost imperceptibly, and he knew she was refusing to play along with his unphasable good humour. It was really no more than he'd expected of her but he'd thought it only polite to give her an exit route if she wanted it. Then she surprised him.

"...Or?"

He started, catching the spark of amusement in her quick brown eyes and breaking into a grin.

"Or… I try to stifle my squeals of joy, which will otherwise soon be turned into cries of pain by one Madam Prince-" He saw Hermione press her lips together in an effort not to smile, "-released as I am from the chains of my previous noble intentions," She snorted but he ploughed on, "I kiss you stupid on this library sofa and then we hold hands all the way back to the common room like - like Percy and Penelope bloody Clearwater - making stupid goo-goo eyes at each other until we lose every one of our friends due to our disgusting behaviour and end up living the rest of our lives as hermits in a cave somewhere in the south of France where we can steal food from a nearby vineyard. Or whatever else you want to do, I'm easy." He grinned at her felt his gaze fix on her bottom lip as she she bit it thoughtfully - an action she did not miss.

"Well," She said, in that Prefect voice of hers, bringing his attention back to her gleaming eyes, "that kissing me stupid part did sound pretty interesting. Although I warn you, with my intelligence levels, it might take a while to get all the way down to stupid-"

"I've been told I'm a very goal-driven man, Granger, I think I might be willing to put in the time-"

They could each feel the others smile as their lips pressed together and for one whole moment, they were as quiet as they had ever been together.

BANG!

"You know, when books mentioned fireworks I didn't think they were being literal, Fred."

"Must have forgotten it was in my pocket-"

" _FIREWORKS! IN MY LIBRARY!"_

"Look sharp, Granger-"

"Right behind you, Weasley-"

He grabbed her wrist and they bolted. Though not quite as he had described, Fred would point out later that they did indeed hold hands all the way back to the common room.


End file.
